


Impaled

by Rollyzen



Series: "Goretober" 2018- that isn't actually gore [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Episode Remix, Gen, Impaled, M/M, Stiles Stilinski Gets Bitten Instead of Scott McCall, Writing Exercise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-27 12:32:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16219118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rollyzen/pseuds/Rollyzen
Summary: Day 6 of October: ImpaledStrictly speaking, Stiles shouldn't have been out in the Preserve to start with.





	Impaled

**Author's Note:**

> kind of leaned on another fic for this idea. It's called "I Was A Teenage Werewolf", and it's cool so everyone should check it out if you haven't.

Strictly speaking, Stiles shouldn't have been out in the preserve to start with. However, the extenuating circumstances told him he should _definitely_ do it. Those circumstances might have only been that Scott had stiff-armed him, _No_ , and his dad told him not to. But. Stiles was also kind of weird, so he wanted to find a body in the woods. Well, half of a body. His dad, as usual, was pretty tight lipped about everything. That would never be enough to stop Stiles. Besides, a vicious killer would never be prowling around when the police were on scene. It was a stupid move. He pointedly did not cross-examine what this said about him.

After his unfortunate failure to drag Scott along with him, him and Roscoe make their way to the preserve. In the dark of the night, he felt distinctly small without his best friend beside him. But at the moment it was easy to compartmentalize and just grab the flashlight from the glove box.

Once he was traipsing through the woods, it became increasingly clear he had no idea what he was doing. His jacket didn't exactly protect him from the chill of California night, so he blamed the eventual shaking of his hands on being cold. Leaves crunched underfoot, and it felt like he'd been walking forever. Stiles expected to run into the police net at some point to give him an indication of direction. More irritated than scared, he stomped off in a new direction.

A creeping sound caught his attention second before a herd of deer burst over the top of the hill he stood on. He dived across the hill to use some log as a barricade. He curled into himself while the wildlife passed, visions from _The Lion King_ playing in head. As the last of them scampered through, Stiles stood and brushed himself off.

"Jesus Christ."

He ran his hands over his buzzcut and cursed. His flashlight had smacked against the log and cracked. He sighed and put a hand on the log to push himself up. There was an ominous creaking sound just before it cracked, and Stiles was sent sprawling on the other side of it. He swiftly pulled his hand out and rolled over, disgusted by the wetness on his skin. A distinct smell of rot hit his nose, and he grabbed his flashlight. Stiles banged it on his wrist a few times before it flickered. In the brief showing of light, two lifeless eyes stared back at him with an open, blood-stained mouth. He screamed.

Stiles was scrambling over the wet leaves when he heard a long howl fill the air. It raised the hairs on his arms. He had just enough time to think "There are no wolves in California" before the distraction made him slip. He felt the bottom of his stomach drop as he went head-first over the hill. His chin pile-drived the dirt before he flipped over and his back slammed down onto the ground. A horrible sound of puncturing flesh reached his ears and then he was flipping again.

At the bottom of the hill he lay still. He could _feel_ the blood rush from his face and his breathing become uneven. Looking down, it was too dark to see and the injury itself he was numb from. Shock spread through him like ice.

"Fuck. _Fuck_."

Warmth was spreading over his stomach and he felt tears prick his eyes.

" **Hey** , this is private pr-"

A figure stood at the top of the hill, and Stiles tried to get his voice to work. It stuck in his throat but his breathing picked up even faster.

" _Are you okay?_ "

The man made his way down the slope effortlessly. Stiles thought, in a moment of weakness, he might have been a real angel.

"I-I.."

He was spared from embarrassing himself further by a long, low growl. The angel looked up, behind Stiles, and his eyes flashed an electric blue. At this point, he would consider hallucination a very bad sign. The man beside him went very tense.

"Don't move. Be quiet. And shut your eyes."

Then he was gone like he was never there.

Well, if Stiles couldn't hear the sound of a flesh-tearing fight, he would've thought so. As it stood, not only was Stiles going to _die_ , he was going to have to hear someone _else_ die as well. What kind of animal was roaming around in Beacon Hills that could just.. _kill_ somebody? A bear? Except those snarls sounded distinctly not bear-like. And there were two of them now. Hm. Stiles was steadily losing his brain functions apparently. Whatever the case, he hoped that he died before that _thing_ could rip him apart and make it _so_ much more painful. A steady bleeding out would suffice, thank you.

The sounds of fighting abruptly stopped. Stiles craned his neck back to see what was happening before he remembered what the angel had said. _Don't move._ Stiles was nose to nose with a huge beast. Its glowing red eyes pierced him with a crazy delirium. His breath caught in his chest, and its head snapped forward. The teeth that sank into his shoulder were long and blunt. It was unsettling the way that the pain surged through his body. The numbness of his stomach wound was consumed with the same _burning_ pain the spread from the bite like virus. The creature jerked away and tugged Stiles' wounds with it. A different snarl, that he apparently hadn't imagined, disrupted the mood. The large creature seemed to look from Stiles to behind him, almost _considering_. Then it nipped Stiles on the shoulder again and left at a run.

The trampling of leaves coming closer to him made him tense up, but he relaxed upon seeing the figure of the man who was not dead. Stiles tasted metal.

"I-I heard..There's another one. You gotta get out of here."

Honestly, Stiles could say that he wasn't in the least bit ashamed for being so dramatic in his dying words. The angelic man crouched down beside him.

"Hey. _Hey_. Stay with me. You're going to be fine."

Stiles was about to interject about how he was most certainly _not_ going to be fine because he was _dying_ when the man continued.

"I know everyone says that, but trust me. You're going to be _fine_. It doesn't even hurt anymore right?" He croaked.

Stiles suddenly felt very light headed. He couldn't even answer the question before he was overcome by the tide of a great sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> it's hecka late and im too tired to edit obsessively. If there's something off about this i'll fix it later, but feel free to point it out. you're free to interpret the ending how you like.


End file.
